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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25967086">Plot With Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_Durven/pseuds/L_Durven'>L_Durven</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Flash Fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:40:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>988</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25967086</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_Durven/pseuds/L_Durven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A twist involving the Aretuzan ascension ball (where there is a gap of time before her transformation and her entrance into the ballroom).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Plot With Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Leave us.” Tissaia’s voice is dangerous, and it sends an uncontrollable shudder through Yennefer, who is barely conscious as it is. She knows the strain in the Rectoress’ voice is actually controlled fury – she has heard it a <em>hundred times</em> over the years. Her transformation is complete, Giltine is currently running a cloth gently over her exhausted, bloody form to make sure everything is perfect.</p><p>“Rectoress –“</p><p>“I don’t need you to explain.”</p><p>“She’s lost a lot of blood.” Yennefer can feel the shift in bodies as he removes himself from the stool in front of her. The Rectoress is suddenly in front of her, scrubbing the cloth over where Giltine has carved, and Yennefer whimpers when she learns that Tissaia is a lot rougher in her ministrations.</p><p>“Are the herbs worn off, then?”</p><p>“Ah - there were none left for her. Chapter orders.”</p><p>“<em>Pardon</em>?” There is an uncomfortable silence that follows, and Yennefer forces one eye open to take in the scene before her. Tissaia’s hand is gripped so tightly around the cloth, that her knuckles are white. She is staring Giltine down, and he is looking guiltier by the minute. He takes a step back.</p><p>It takes Tissaia’s face contorting, her lips drawing into a tight line and her eyes narrowing, for Yennefer to realize that the two of them are having a now-private conversation. She must dismiss him, because he eventually bows, packs up his tools, and leaves the two women alone without another word.</p><p>“I’m not sorry,” Yennefer bites out, the end of her sentence interrupted by a sharp, painful intake of breath.</p><p>“I wouldn’t expect you to be, you silly girl.” And something softens in the Rectoress as she traces a hand down her charge’s cheek to cup her face. “I’m proud of you, Yennefer. Now sleep. Your body needs it.”</p>
<hr/><p>Yennefer wakes in a bed softer than anything she has ever slept on. She throws the blankets back and swings her legs over the ledge. After taking in the room, she stands and pads her way over to a nearby mirror. She’s still naked, but any trace of what she went through to achieve this is long gone. She recognizes herself, but barely. Her eyes are still a striking shade of violet. Her hair is still the same shade, but sleeker and it falls over her shoulders in a tumble of raven curls. She looks older, more mature, more sure of herself. A straight posture and unblemished skin does wonders. And she tilts her chin up defiantly and swears that she will never cower before another person ever again.</p><p>Movement catches her eye and she shifts her gaze to meet the soft gaze of the Rectoress in the doorframe.</p><p>“Was it worth it?” The question is soft, but loaded. It’s not sarcastic, at least.</p><p>“Yes.” Her breath hitches as her mentor approaches. A hand comes up and it falters for a moment, confusion etching across the Rectoress’ face.</p><p>“May I?” Yennefer nods slightly, and Tissaia runs her fingers along Yennefer’s collarbone. Across a shoulder. Down her arm. It trails down and their fingers entwine.</p><p>“This is the woman I’ve always seen,” she murmurs, and their fingers stay locked as Tissaia brushes away an errant curl and traces her face with her other hand. They stand like that for a long time. Yennefer feels her throat tighten with emotion. She can’t imagine the pride from Tissaia’s silent approval could ever be surpassed by any King, Queen, or lover.</p><p>“Promise me you will not lose yourself at court.” Yennefer nods, but doesn’t trust herself to speak. “I have just the dress put aside for you.” And Yennefer feels her eyebrow quirk and the edge of her mouth twitch. “I cannot help you, Yennefer. I need to try to stop you, even. But I trust you will take what you want?”</p><p>Yennefer’s mouth quirks and she follows the Arch-mistress through a pair of double doors.</p>
<hr/><p>Tissaia knows that she is coming, but it doesn’t soften the overwhelming nature of Yennefer’s chaos as it slips through the room. Her feet move, but not fast enough to cut her off from her goal. She pretends that she disapproves. That she is trying to stop this. And she does well, even if the two of them know it’s a farce. And though something about it bothers her, she leaves Yennefer for the remainder of the evening, watching her thoroughly wrap the King of Aedirn around her finger.</p>
<hr/><p>“Yennefer. What are you doing here?” Aretuza has been a bustle of mages and royal entourages preparing to depart all morning. Yennefer is dressed in travel garb appropriate for her target destination, but her aura is wild as though she has just ripped through the citadel in search of something.</p><p>“I wanted to say goodbye before I left,” she blurted, breathlessly.Tissaia’s smile is crooked, almost sad. “Ah. Congratulations. You have everything you want. I’m happy for you.”</p><p>“Not everything.” And there’s a nervous energy bouncing around her as she approaches the Rectoress. Tissaia feels her guard goes up and her shoulders stiffen as Yennefer comes closer. Yennefer reaches out and grabs her waist, then pulls her against her.</p><p>And then the younger woman is kissing her. Everything in Tissaia is telling her to push the girl away, but truth be told, she can’t - she won’t. Yennefer isn’t forcing her into this. Tissaia’s fingers weave through her curls and she kisses the girl back as though her life depends on it.</p><p>“I don’t think I’ll ever have everything. But now I’m close.” Yennefer presses one last, lingering kiss against Tissaia’s lips, and then she is gone in a flurry of robes. Something selfish in Tissaia wants to chase her, but she forces herself to stay where she is. Balance is something that Yennefer will learn on her own, in her own time. It’s the one, painful lesson that Tissaia refuses to teach her.</p>
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